


Wolves Will Keep You Warm

by GoldenEyedFury



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, F/M, Graphic Depictions of Transformation, Greek Myths, Halloween, Love Found, Love Lost - Freeform, Lycan!Harry, Lycans, Pining, Post-War, Samhain, Werewolf!Harry, Werewolves, Werewolves Turn Into Actual Wolves, Zeus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore) Being an Asshole, anthro werewolves, creature!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-15 23:42:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21026693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenEyedFury/pseuds/GoldenEyedFury
Summary: "You have a choice to make, boy. I can cure you tonight and you can return to your miserable existence, or I can send you back to a Samhain of your choosing, memories intact, of course. You'd get to relive your life as you see fit. However if I send you back, you'll be a Lycan forever."Harry blinked, unable to move. Long seconds of silence stretched between them. Lycaon Curled his lip and  glanced over at him. He waved his paw and the mist receded. Harry slowly lowered both his foot and hands.





	Wolves Will Keep You Warm

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [HalloweenHarmonyComp2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/HalloweenHarmonyComp2019) collection. 

> **Prompt:**
> 
> Creature!Harry. After Harry is turned into a Werewolf during the Final Battle, he abandons life as he knows it and goes off to live life in the woods, alone. That is, until the eve of Halloween, when the very first werewolf appears, Lycaon, as a spirit(look up Greek mythology) tells him he has a choice to live a different life. But time is ticking and he has only 24 hours to make his choice.
> 
> This piece was written for Harmony & Co's Double Double Toil and Trouble Halloween fest. All canon characters, plots, dialogue, and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. I am not profiting from this work.

** **

**Wolves will keep you Warm**

Harry knelt in front of his parents tombstone. Dampness soaked through his jeans, he didn’t care. It wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last. He visited them on every major holiday, and more often than not it was wet. Well, technically it was at the stroke of midnight, the very moment that the date shifted, in which he visited them. 

He’d learned long ago not to show up during the day or even that night. Sightings of him made the Prophet, photographs were worth a small fortune, and people were relentless in their pursuit of him. Even Twenty-three years after the battle of Hogwarts. 281 months since he fulfilled the prophecy, and was in turn cursed. It haunted him still. 

The moon had been in its first quarter, werewolves shouldn’t have been able to shift, let alone infect anyone. And yet, Harry still saw the werewolf spring from the rubble, like a daisy after rainfall, in his nightmares. Its maw gaping wider and wider until it’s skull nearly split. Pearly white fangs glinting in the spellfire, the heavy punch of its paws taking him down. Laying on the cobblestone, wheezing and unable to scream as its teeth tore into him. And then the wolf was gone, and he was bleeding. Hermione screamed for him and he struggled to his feet, uncapped a vial of dittany and poured it over his arm. He didn’t have time to process the attack until much later. 

By then it was too late. The Ministry began rounding up werewolves, both suspected and proven, as well as all who sought to protect them. Harry could feel the changes working through his body within days of the bite. He prowled throughout Grimmauld Place, restless and aching. Skin too tight and temper riding shotgun in his mind. Moonlight bathed him as he passed one of the few windows and he stopped short. Within the moon’s embrace everything was _ right. _ He turned his face into the pale light and let it wash him clean. He knew exactly what he was in that moment. All doubt had been eased from his mind. He had to leave. Harry couldn’t risk being discovered and dragging everyone down with him. 

And so he stayed away. Ventured into Gringotts and donated far too much money to help rebuild the bank, in return for a monthly stipend to be exchanged from galleons to pounds and sent to a muggle bank account under a false identity. Grew a beard to rival Hagrids and then retreated to Potter cottage, a holiday home in the middle of a forest. Unplottable and warded by the Goblins to keep werewolves in. He left only for supplies and to visit his parents. 

The temptation to visit his friends occasionally proved to be too much. He kept up with them. Careful to hide himself to the best of his ability. Of course nothing he could do would fool Hermione for long. She alone continued to search for him. Ron had settled down and had a couple kids with Millicent Bulstrode of all people, but Hermione hunted him relentlessly. 

The first time he had tripped one of her trackers, he’d been hard pressed to get away. Shaking off a blood based tracking charm took salt water and distance. He chain apparated to the coast and dove into the water. She showed up within twenty minutes. He watched her rant and rave for over an hour. Heart breaking when she began to cry. He couldn’t risk exposing himself to her. And so he stayed on the edge of an orange buoy, hidden by the night and a notice-me-not charm, until long after she left. 

Now as he sat before his parents he could smell her. New books, orange pekoe tea, and cats. A lot of cats; at least four unrelated felines. They covered the bouquet of Daisies, Rosemarie, and Stargazer lilies. Harry knew better than to touch the headstone. One dip into the ocean in October was enough fun to last a lifetime. Hermione’s scent was only a few hours old. He wondered if she was still there, hidden among the tombstones and watching him. Would she still want to see him after all this time? He yearned to see her. 

~oOo~

He shivered as the moonlight washed over him, his skin prickled and joints ached. Soon he would shed his human skin and run in the cool embrace of the moon. He didn’t deserve her. Not her unwavering loyalty nor her love. He was a monster, and monsters don’t get a happy ending. 

“Now that’s bullshite, Mate.” A voice boomed, seeming to fill the cemetery. 

Harry whirled, a snarl rumbling in his chest, eyes flashing gold. He stood in a half crouch, hands open, fingers curled as if holding a baseball in each hand. The beds of his fingernails darkened and his teeth sharpened toward fangs. 

“Look at you,” the voice echoed around him, “Moon drunk and maudlin. Is that anyway to greet your maker?”

Harry drew his wand with a deft flick of his wrist. 

“At least you started working on a good half form. And in your first century too. Impressive. Do a bit of a turn, come on now, let me see you.”

“Why don’t we skip the dance and go right to the money?” Harry sidestepped, scanning the graveyard. He flexed his ears, straining them. They began to grow, the tips stretching upward into a more triangular shape. 

“Twenty three years a werewolf, and all you can do is bark at me? Where is your growl, or your pack? Perhaps even a backbone?” The speaker huffed, “When I changed you, I’d had such high hopes. You’ve a partial half form! That’s bloody incredible! But no pack, no family. Where is your Powerbase? So much potential and you’ve squandered it.”

Harry blinked and straightened from his half crouch, “Are you sure you’ve got the right werewolf?” Hope blossomed in Harry’s chest. Perhaps this was all a big misunderstanding and he could go home without bloodshed. 

“I wish. I _ should _ have bitten that young lady you ran around with. She’d exceed all my expectations and more.”

“Stay away from her!” Harry snarled. The bridge of his nose thickened, bones shifted in his cheeks, pushing his jaws forward into a short muzzle. Dark fur sprouted on his cheeks. The green of his irises were completely swallowed in gold. 

Laughter, thick and cold, rang through the cemetery. Perfectly villainous, as if pulled from an action hero flick. A monster stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight. Mist crawled along the ground, rippling forward with each step he took. A perfectly formed wolfs head sat upon distinctly human shaped shoulders and torso. His entire body was sheathed in dark brown, nearly black fur. Human shaped legs ended in wolf paws, the heel stretched back and lifted. 

A fully anthropomorphic werewolf. Harry took a step back. His partial change was nothing to this creature’s; a parlor trick. Harry could leave the cemetery as he was and walk down the streets of muggle London and gather compliments on his costume. The wolf before him wouldn’t be out of place in a hollywood horror. One look at him and muggles would flee in terror. Most wixen as well.

Fur bristled down Harry’s back, standing on end. The back of his trousers grew tight, his tail bunching in his pants. He gained an inch as his feet shifted, heels lifting out of his trainers. His ears climbed higher up the side of his head, the points twitching as he tried to lay them back. 

The Werewolf raised his head, and sniffed loudly. “So protective of a woman you go out of your way to avoid. Tell me boy, when was the last time you saw her? I know when _ I _last saw her. Drinking a cup of english breakfast in her garden and so engrossed in her book that she didn’t notice me watching. That orange beast of hers did though. I sat on the edge of her wards for hours, watching her. She left them open for werewolves. It would be so easy to step in and take her.” He took another step forward, the mist flowed over Harry’s trainers. “Put the wand away and I’ll consider forgetting where she lives.”

Harry twisted his wrist, sending the wand back into its sheath. 

“Good boy.”

“Who are you and what do you want?” Harry’s fangs kept him from clenching his jaw. “I didn’t kill Greyback, and no I won’t join you. Not even if you have cookies.”

The wolf snorted, “I’m sure the darkside weeps at your refusal. As for me,” He gestured to himself, “I am Lycaon, the first amongst the wolves.”

Harry nodded, “You say that as if it should matter.”

“IT DOES MATTER!” Lycaon roared, spreading his arms and baring his teeth, “I am a KING of Lycans, cursed by the King of the Gods himself. Without me there would be no Lycanthropes.”

“Okay I get it.” Harry nodded and took a step to the right, sliding away from his parents headstone incase things went pear shaped. “You‘re a werewolf bigwig.”

“Not a werewolf, you petulant child!” Lycaon rubbed the bridge of his snout, such a distinctly human gesture made alien. “A Lycan. There is a difference. Have you ever wondered why you can change, even partially, without the moon? Look at yourself! A _ Werewolf _, couldn’t do this!”

He said “werewolf,” the same way Snape used to say “Potter.” 

“Ah-ha. Well, I’ve always been an overachiever.”

Lycaon snarled and started pacing back and forth, tail lashing like an irritated cat. “I had a choice you know. I could have picked the smart one, with her ruthlessness. She would have been a force to behold. But no, I had to pick the brawny, “disarming my opponent works every time! Why use a different spell,” one. Fate’s hand was upon you and I couldn’t resist mucking up those bitches plans. I hope they're watching through a shared eye and laughing it up, up there on their **hill of lies!**” 

Harry raised both hands, rough palms forward and patted the air twice, “Okay.” He drew it out into several syllables. “It’s been, well not nice or fun… something though. It’s been something but I’m just going to go.” He twitched his head to the side.

Lycaon shook himself, “No, I believe you’ll stay.”

Harry froze, one foot in the air and his palms still up. His eyes widened, the whites showing. The mist swirled around him, holding him in place. 

Lycaon continued pacing, "You have a choice to make, boy. I can cure you tonight and you can return to your miserable existence, or I can send you back to a Samhain of your choosing, memories intact, of course. You'd get to relive your life as you see fit. However if I send you back, you'll be a Lycan forever."

Harry blinked, unable to move. Long seconds of silence stretched between them. Lycaon Curled his lip and glanced over at him. He waved his paw and the mist receded. Harry slowly lowered both his foot and hands.

"How do I even chose?! I've survived a lot of shite to get to where I am."

"Ah yes. Growing up neglected and unloved, then commiting suicide to "save" the world. What a noble and worthy life." Lycaon scoffed and shrank down onto all fours, body shifting to more closely resemble a European wolf. He grinned, "Let's take a look at what your life could be."

Wind swirled around their feet kicking up dust, dirt and dried flowers. A hook clamped his navel and the world went dark. 

~oOo~

"You need to work on your landings, what a disgrace."

Harry groaned and sat up, adjusting his glasses and tugging down his shirt. "A little warning would have been nice!" Harry shifted his feet as the change washed over him, pulling him back to his purely human shape.

"Ha! If I was nice then I wouldn't have bit ya! Now shut it and pay attention."

Harry gained his feet and looked around. They stood in the middle of an empty street. The world, once vibrant, had been painted in shades of greys, greens and blues. Some of which he recognized, and other colors that had no names or words to fully describe. 

"What is this place?"

"Earth?" Harry wasn't sure if wolves could raise their eyebrows, but Lycaon wrinkled his forehead and tilted his head, in a Wolfy version of it. "Did you hit your head or are you naturally this dense?"

"Then _ what _ is with all this?" Harry gestured with both hands, encompassing their immediate area.

"This is how I see the world. Right now we're both looking through my eyes. Of course we haven't left Godric's Hollow. Our bodies are sitting comfortably and being watched over."

"What do you mean?!" Harry patted himself down. He _ felt _ real. "Who's watching us?!" He suddenly felt naked and exposed. 

"A woman was sitting on a bench under an invisibility cloak… How could you miss her? I swear you are the world's worst Lycan. Might as well write "alert- are- us" on your forehead. You know she's there every time you are. The place is covered in her scent. Parchment, tea and cats." The Wolf shrugged and stood. "Enough chit chat, let's get this show on the road!" 

“Wait, hold up a second. What do you mean Hermione’s there?!”

Lycaon rolled his head and shot Harry a look of pure pain, “Look, Harry, it's really no ones fault but your own that you’re uniquely unobservant. You should really work on that. Might save your life.” He trotted down the street and barked, “Hurry up or I’ll call this whole hoopla off.”

Harry mouthed, “Hoopla?” and followed several feet behind the wolf. Hermione spent every holiday alone on a cold bench just for a chance to see him. She’d never said anything or let on that she’d been there. What had he ever done to inspire such loyalty? He sure as hell didn’t deserve her. And yet, he warmed at the thought. 

“Get your head out of your arse! Speculate and apologize later!” 

Harry kept an eye on Lycaon and studied his surroundings as they walked. It was a generic street, lined with trees and absolutely unremarkable aside from being cobbled. And Completely silent. Even with the late hour, cities and towns breathed, animals rustled in the bush, telly’s and radios spilled out of windows, whispering the words of whatever they were tuned to. But not this street. Harry slowed his walk and slipped into a prowl. His trainers ghosting over the ground. Even Lycaon, with his clawed paws, made no sound. 

Lycaon stopped before a wall of thick fog that blocked the entire street; and had come out of nowhere. Harry drew even with him and tried not to shy away. The wolf’s shoulder was even with his chest. Lycaon could look him in the eye without changing shape or even craning his neck. 

“In we go.” Lycaon grinned.

“I thought we were _ already _ in the Halloween of futures past.”

“No?” Lycaon cocked his head and shot Harry a quizzical look. “Did you think time travel was easy peasy lemon squeezy? Because it's actually, difficult, difficult, lemon difficult.” 

“Naw, I figured it would feature timey, wimey stuff.” 

“Shut up and step into the fog!”

Harry stepped without hesitation. A wall of white swallowed him whole.

~oOo~

“Seriously? On the ground again?”

Harry opened his eyes and sat up. Color flooded the world, painting it in shades of pink and orange. Dawn peered over the horizon. 

“Wakey, wakey. I have no eggs or bacon and life is a constant disappointment.” Lycaon barked a laugh, “Just like you! Welcome to Possible Halloween destination number 1!”

They sat on the edge of a placid lake, a tentacle burst through the still water. Joined by a second and third. Harry knew those tentacles. Not in a weird way, but in a “Seen them nearly everyday for six years.” kind of way. He spun on his knees, damp dirt seeping through, and knealth before Hogwarts in all her glory, bathed in the morning light. She was whole, no crumbling towers, or burnt out bridges. Stones unmarked by flame or curse. Beautiful and strong. Home. Lycaon brought him home. 

Harry wept. He hadn’t laid eyes upon the school since the battle. He fell forward, palms slapping the ground. He clutched at the grass and dirt and sobbed. 

“Come on.” Lycaon said, voice low and soothing, “We don’t have much time. Traveling like this feels like a blink of an eye, but time passes differently in my realm than it does in yours. We had twenty-four hours, now its sixteen.”

Harry scrubbed his face with his sleeve and stood. The sun was directly above them now. And as Harry watched it ticked over. Birds flashed above them, zipping through the sky at alarming speed. 

“What year is it?” 

“1991.”

Lycaon trotted off, Harry following in his wake. They slipped through the doors and Harry watched students flash past him in a blurr. All heading into the Great Hall. At once Time froze, and with a nearly audible snap slowed to real time. Harry walked into the Great Hall and watched his younger self laugh with Ron. 

“Are we going to relive my first Halloween?”

“Not exactly. The version of you that we see,” Lycaon nodded toward the now food filled table, “Is you now, if you chose to travel back to it. Its a possibility, both your past and future all rolled up.” 

Young Harry looked toward the doors, right at where Older Harry stood. “Can he see us?”

“No, but he knows we’re here, because he remembers being here in this moment. Probably recounting this exact conversation too.” 

Young Harry tilted his head and switched his gaze to the door just as they burst open and Quirrelmort stumbled into the room, screaming. They followed the mass exodus of students into the hall and split with young Harry as he beelined for the girls toilets, and Hermione within. 

“I let Ron treat her badly again, this time?” Harry scowled, “What kind of friend am I?!” 

Lycaon shrugged his massive furry shoulders, “The same kind of Lycan you are. A bit disappointing but not altogether hopeless.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “What is wrong with you?”

“Oh, well lets see...” 

A troll lumbered down the hall and pushed open the bathroom door as if lured. Harry narrowed his eyes, only half listening to Lycaon.

“I tried to trick Zeus into eating my least favorite son, and that backfired spectacularly-”

Young Harry and Hermione stood side by side, wands out, their backs to the wall. The Troll swung his club and they dodged. The bathroom stalls exploded around them. Harry covered Hermione as they ducked under the sinks. 

_ “Now!” _ The children yelled together as the Troll hammered at the sinks. Water sprayed, covering the tiled floor. They rolled out of the way, leapt to their feet and slipped in the growing puddle. They cast at the same time. _ “Wingardium Leviosa!” _The club lifted out of the trolls fist and dropped onto his head. The Troll collapsed and young Harry and Hermione high fived. 

“-then he cursed me and all of my remaining children into this.” If Lycaon had hands he would of gestured at himself. “A millennia later and here we are. I’m talking to myself as I try to help a dimwit who can’t even pretend to pay attention.”

“What is going on here?” Harry pointed at his younger self being chastised by Professor’s McGonagall and Snape. 

“You returned with Memories intact, you changed things. Let's move onward.” Lycaon turned and started back down the hallway, a wall of fog rose to meet him.

“But, what about this. I thought you were supposed to show me my past future and present?” Harry splaid his hands and hunched his shoulders absolutely flummoxed. 

“Do _ look _like the ghost of Samhain past? No. You have a choice to make or weren’t you paying attention earlier?” 

A translucent version of them took shape in the fog. 

_ Lycaon paced, "You have a choice to make, boy. I can cure you tonight and you can return to your miserable existence, or I can send you back to a Samhain of your choosing, memories intact, of course. You'd get to relive your life as you see fit. However if I send you back, you'll be a Lycan forever." _

“How will my life be different? What is the catalyst to make me change my ways?” Harry pointed back at the washroom and the crowd surrounding it. “All I see is me having to relive all the trauma that I worked so hard to move past the first time!”

The wolf whirled on him, knocking him to the floor and placing a massive paw on his chest. He snarled and pressed his damp nose to the tip of Harry’s dry one. “How you live your life is up to you. This is not some feel good story where we sing a song and everything is hunky dory! I’m being forced to help you by Zeus. I interfered with Fate and that's a big no-no.”

Lycaon snarled again, leaning heavily onto his paw and crushing Harry into the floor. He seemed to grow larger, blocking out the light above him until all Harry could see was teeth. Hot fetid breath washed over his face and Lycaon continued to speak.

“You are a child of Prophecy, I am the first Lycan. A spirit! Do you know how many people I can interact with? None. Except you. I made you _ mine. _A Golden boy who strove for light and magic and all that is good in this world. You should have gone on to do great things but I interfered. I put my pride ahead of your destiny. Now I’m here, trying to guide you into a better path so Zeus doesn’t trap me in the body of a chihuahua for the rest of my lowly existence.” Lycaon lifted his paw and sat, his red eyes boring into Harry’s soul.

“I was called to you that night, because while my other children are soulless, being reborn time after time as wolves or worse dogs, I am saddled with the knowledge of why. I can’t even interact with any of them. Not even to explain why. I came to you to atone for my sins. I had a chance to fix things and blew it. So here we are.”

“I don’t understand! What does it all mean! Why did you choose me?”

“It’s always been you, Harry. It always had to be you. Marked at birth by Fate, the moment your soul burst into the flames of life, Fate touched you and you will forever be hers. No matter who you belonged to first or how many times you are reborn.”

Lycaon twisted and dove into the fog. Harry laid on the floor and breathed. Trying to work over what Lycaon had said. Nothing made sense. With a heavy sigh Harry climbed to his feet and stepped into the fog.

~oOo~

He was dropped back onto the cobbled street, awake thankfully. Lycaon Watched him from over his shoulder and vanished into another wall. Harry followed, grumbling. 

Moonlight winked through the clouds, dappling the forest floor. He could smell pine sap, and leaf mold, somewhere a stream trickled. Owls hooted and small animals scurried to their burrows. Harry stood in the center of a small clearing, old growth trees towered overhead, the night filled his lungs, teasing his wolf. Harry took a deep breath of fresh forest air and smiled. He leaned his head back and watched the sky, letting the night wash the stress and anger away. 

Twin points of golden flames watched him from the treeline. Harry could feel them boring into him. Their point of origin shifting as Lycaon prowled through the undergrowth. Harry didn’t care what the old wolf did, at that moment the light of the full moon washed over him. He opened his eyes and for the first time in over twenty years he beheld the moon’s glory as a man. 

Laughter. The likes of which he hadn’t heard in years echoed through the trees. He cocked his head, listening. Behind him and slightly to the left. He turned. A game trail meandered through the woods, its faint imprint scarring the clearing. A woman emerged within the trees. 

Her hair tumbled down her back and over her shoulders. A mass of untamed curls; he could see every shade of brown within them. She wore bright red knee high boots, silver buckles flashing in the moonlight, that matched her coat perfectly. Her faded bluejeans hugged the curves of her legs. 

Finally he looked at her face. Rosy cheeks, and an infectious smile. Her eyes were deep wells of amber and brimmed with magic and intelligence. Harry’s heart ached. Hermione was happy. Well and truly happy. His throat caught and he cleared it roughly. She paused at the entrance to the clearing, and glanced over her shoulder. She turned slightly, reaching a hand toward the woods. 

Lycaon padded to his side. Harry barely noticed. A man joined her on the trail, his glasses caught and reflected the moonlight. He smiled at her and weaved their fingers together. As one they stepped into the clearing. His hair was long on the top and cut close on the sides and back. Slicked back over his head, a few loose strands falling toward his ears. A thick beard hugged his chin and cheeks, solid black and perfectly groomed. Only his emerald eyes gave him away. 

“Now that is how you should look when you meet your maker!” Lycaon said nodding appreciatively. 

Harry squinted at himself. Unable to refrain from comparing himself now to the other, better groomed version. His current beard was closer to mountain hermit, his hair was short and evenish on all sides. There was only so far a mirror could go when cutting your own hair. Their clothes at least remained the same. Favoring comfort over style, they wore jeans and T-shirt. Or at least Harry assumed the alternate version of himself was wearing a T-shirt under his dark woolen coat. 

“I think the hair is a bit… prickish.”

“Ha! I think you’re a bit of a prick regardless.” 

Harry rolled his eyes. “When are we now?”

“2029.” 

“Well now that explains the hair. But I look _ good _ for being 49. She looks better. Even now she still takes my breath away.”

Lycaon snorted but said nothing. 

Hermione said something that made her Harry chuckle and lean in for a kiss. She looped both arms around his neck. One of his hands cupped her cheek, the other tangled in her hair. 

“Why can’t we hear what they’re saying?” Harry stared over their heads, unable to stomach the longing clawing within his chest.

“The future isn’t written in stone. This is a possibility, and even as you watch this now it could change. We only get a glimpse of what could be.” Lycaon shrugged and stretched. “Only a short visit this time. Lets go.”

~oOo~

“Trick or treat!” 

The streets of Godric’s Hollow were filled with children toting bags filled with candy. Parents followed along behind their progeny, thermos’ steaming, happily chatting with friends. The sun had yet to fully set and the temperature was dry and, if not warm then pleasant. 

“You mentioned earlier,” Harry carefully didn’t glance at the wolf as they walked along the streets, invisible to everyone around them. “That your children were cursed with you. How many did you have?”

Lycaon growled, sides heaving as if he’d merely sighed. “I have fifty sons, and three daughters. Currently ten are waiting to be born, two in the same litter even. My oldest daughter is dying as we speak right… now.” He shook himself, “One of my sons is in a zoo. One of my two surviving daughters is a pet, the other is participating in her first hunt. I can feel each and every one of them. I can feel their birth and deaths, over and over. They cannot feel me.”

Harry stopped in mid step. Horrified. “How many times have they been reborn? How have you not gone mad?”

“Zeus keeps me sane through it all. Keeps me alive. Some have been reborn hundreds of times, others less. One son has been reborn only a handful of times. One daughter never makes it past a year. I try not to think about it but,” He shrugged, “I don’t have the luxury of forgetting.”

They turned down an achingly familiar road. Ahead a woman walked, head high, shoulders back. She strode like she belonged, challenging anyone to question her presence. Harry shrank back and Lycaon bared his teeth.

“What's the matter boy? Can’t handle being slapped in the face by your decisions?”

Harry crossed his arms, hands cupping his elbows, and leaned over his own arms. “I wasn’t expecting to see her.” 

“She is your past, your future, and now your present. That woman,” He jerked his chin in her direction, “Is so entwined in your life, I wouldn't be surprised if she followed you into the next life. Hell, she probably already followed you into this one. Which of you is older?”

“She is.” He nearly whispered. She took a turn and Harry lurched after her, steps quickening until he was nearly jogging. 

“You followed her then.” Lycaon fell into an easy lope beside Harry. He could keep that pace forever without growing tired. 

The cemetery gates loomed. Hermione’s gait hitched and she drew a shimmering cloak out of a painfully familiar bag. She pulled it over her shoulders and vanished.

“No!” Harry reached for her, his fingers brushing through empty air.

Lycaon laughed. “It’s not like we don’t know where she's going genius.”

Harry scowled and picked up the pace, falling into an easy jog. Sometimes it was good to be a wolf. They passed through the gates. Orange spices tickled his nose, he breathed it in. His shoulders which had been steadily hunching, relaxed. He nearly drifted along the scent trail.

She sat on a wooden bench. The cloak shimmered as she arranged it around her. Careful not to drape it over the back of the bench and to cover the toes of her shoes. The last of the light was fading and lamps sprung to life. He heard fabric rustle and then the slight scratching of fingers on paper. Of course she’d brought a book. 

Harry sat on the bench beside her. He didn’t know where Lycaon had disappeared to, or when he had gone. All that mattered was Hermione. He waited with her, watching the space she occupied for the slightest hint of movement. Occasionally he heard a page turn. She didn’t make a sound. He didn’t are. Sitting there beside her, even without her knowing he was there, was the best and shortest hours he’d ever spent. 

Her breathing hitched. If he hadn’t been practically touching her, he would have missed it. He glanced to his parents graves and watched his own invisibility cloak fall to the ground as he knelt before them. Mist crawled through the cemetery and swallowed his kneeling form whole. 

Hermione leapt to her feet, ripped the cloak off herself. Fear stamped her face. She charged into the mist. The very second it touched her, she froze. 

Harry moved to follow her. Lycaon jumped into his path, teeth bared and hackles standing on end. 

“Stop!” He snapped, “Now you have a choice to make. Do you remain a Lycan and go back to a Samhain of your choice or do I cure you tonight?”

“I can’t just leave her!”

“Why not? All you’ve done for the last twenty-three years is leave her. Over and over again until she has to hide and sneak around to get a glimpse of you. Why is tonight so special?”

“She never left me! I didn’t know!”

“Oh so now she is worthy of your time and affection?” Lycaon paced back and forth the mists swirling in his wake. “You are a fool Harry James Potter.”

“I don’t deserve her loyalty or her love! Its me who isn’t worthy!”

“You’ve never been worthy.” Lycaon barked, “Not now and not a millenia ago!”

Harry growled, gold swirling within his irises. “Shut the fuck up! You don’t even know me. How can you decide if I’m good enough for my best friend!”

“I’ve known you since the very beginning. From the moment your heart began to beat within Lily Potter’s womb, to the very second you took your first gasping breath. I know you. Our time runs short. Choose!”

“What are you even talking about?”

“Make. Your. Choice.”

“No! Not until you explain everything. Why me Lycaon. Why do you need to help _ me _?” 

Lycaon roared, thousands of years of grief echoed in his throat. “You are running out of time. Stop dallying and choose!”

“Fine!” Harry snarled, teeth gaining an edge, “Let me take Hermione back with me. If my fate is entwined with hers then she deserves a choice.”

Lycaon pondered it. “If I do this you will remain a Lycan forever. And should she choose to follow you back in time, then she too will become a Lycan. Your will never escape it. Your descendants will share your fate. Do you accept?” 

Harry didn’t even have to think. “Yes.”

~oOo~

“Harry?”

Hermione’s voice cut him like a knife. He turned, Her fist caught him right on the chin. He reeled, stumbling into his parents headstone. He hadn’t even felt himself land in his own body. Ghostly laughter reached his ears. 

“Hermio-”

She punched him again, this time in the arm. He flinched away, raising both arms to block his face.

“You absolute tosser!” Her voice shook, “I hate you! How could you just leave me?”

His heart broke. “I’m sorry! Hermione I’m so, so sorry. It was for the-”

“I swear on all that is Holy, if you say “the greater good” I will skin you alive!”

“The Ministry was rounding up werewolves and persecuting everyone who protected them. I couldn’t risk you getting caught up in it.” Cautiously he lowered his arms and peered at her over his clenched fists.

Hermione stood as close to him as she could possibly get without touching him. Arms wrapped tightly around herself. Tears stained her cheeks, eyes red and puffy. Her shoulders heaved with the force of her sobs. 

“How-” She hiccoughed, “How could you just leave me? I- I loved you Harry. And you just up and left in the middle of the night.”

Slowly, carefully Harry moved into her space. He kept his arms open and stance easy. Giving her plenty of time to move away. She didn’t. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. She buried her face in his neck but otherwise didn’t move. 

His heart shattered into a million tiny pieces. He did this to her. His fault.

“Hermione,” He began, “I can never apologize enough for what I put you through. Nothing I can say or do will ever make it right. But I can promise to never, under any circumstances, put you through this again. I have a choice to make tonight. Either we can move forward or go back in time to a samhain of our choosing. With our memories intact, and change everything.”

“What do you mean?” She sniffed and pulled away, It broke him to let her go. But he did. 

“Just what I said.”

“How are we doing this? Why are you bringing it up now? What is going on Harry James Potter?” Hermione laced steel into her voice, the effect was ruined by her sniffling. But Harry wouldn’t ever tell her that.

He told her about Lycaon. Leaving out nothing. Hermione smacked him again when he got to the part about First Year. Then _ again _ when he mentioned the future.

“So I’ll be a Lycan as well? If we go back ,that is. But You’ll stay one no matter what?”

“Yes.” She was taking this remarkably well. He expected much pain in his future. Or past, or whatever came next. “How exactly are we traveling back?”

“Does it matter how we go back? We only have a few minutes to choose. Please Hermione, travel back in time with me?”

Lycaon took that moment to materialize in front of them. He shifted from his wolf shape up onto twolegs. Hermione’s eyes widened, eyebrows trying to crawl up into her hair line. 

“Have you chosen?”

She squared her shoulders and put herself between Lycaon and Harry, “Yes. First Year, please.”

Lycaon lifted both arms, magic curled around him pulling the mist in. It swirled around them like a tornado. Twisting closer and closer until it enveloped them entirely. He dropped his arms and the mists vanished. He stood alone in the cemetery. But only for a moment.

A golden man appeared beside him and clapped him on the shoulder. “Rest now, Lycaon. Your son will live the life he deserves. Your remaining children will finally know peace.”

Lycaon shrank down, fur receding until a dark skinned man stood where a wolf once did. He turned his hands over, marveling at the smooth skin. Slowly he ran his fingers over the top of his hands and then up both arms. Completely at a loss. 

One by one his children appeared. Until the cemetery was full. Each was human and Lycaon could see the recognition in their eyes. They turned toward Zeus as one, bowed and vanished. Zeus faded away as well.

~oOo~

Pinks and blues kissed the horizon and a family of four walked into the cemetery. The children ran ahead and crashed onto the ground in front of their grandparents tombstones.

“Hi Grandma, Hi Grandpa! We went on our first hunt last night!” They chorused together.

The End.


End file.
